7 Oct 2004
I made a delicious dinner last night…well, delicious if you like burned things, excessively salty things, and bland things.
Excessively salty: roasted asparagus
Last night the anticipation leading up to America’s Next Top Model was ridiculous. I mean, who am I, anyway? At 6:30 I thought, only 30 more minutes! At 6:57 I thought I was going to wet my pants. Come on. I need to get a life.
Anyway, it was as rad as I expected. Every season, at some point fairly early on, all the girls get makeovers, but they totally don’t get a say in what happens to them. It’s more like, you! you’re a blonde and hey you, here is your new weave and hey, girl who thinks Crystal Gayle hair is hot, we are saving you from becoming 100% white trash by donating that mess to Locks of Love while you cry and protest and look ridiculous on television.
So that was good. Other non-surprises include that the stripper from Oklahoma has an eating disorder, that the spooky blind girl looks even more spooky with her new platinum hair and extensions, and that the judges are mean. I love this show.
I am reading Chuck Palahniuk’s Stranger than Fiction right now. It’s pretty good–it’s a group of essays, so if you get bored you can skip ahead. (I only skipped out on finishing the essays on wrestling and demolition derbies.) Chuck finds himself in wacky, wacky places, like the Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival, Marilyn Manson’s attic, and wandering around Seattle in a dalmation costume for no reason. Note: People are enraged by this, actually, and groups of young men punch Chuck in the kidneys repeatedly. After a day of this, he’s settled in:
By now, I don’t give a shit. This dog could walk around this way forever. Walking taller. Blind and deaf to people’s shit. I don’t need to wave, to pander and pose with kids for pictures. I’m just a dog smoking a cigarette outside Pottery Barn. I lean back, one leg lifted against the facade of Tiffany and Company. I’m just the Dalmation making a cell-phone call in front of Old Navy.